A Case of Time and Space
by bluerain1984
Summary: We're all stories in the end, but sometimes, two fantastic stories can come together to make an even better one. When one Doctor becomes another, and awakens from his sleep, he embarks on what is his biggest, and possibly his final, great adventure, along side two of the most remarkable Companions he will ever have. Doctor Who/Sherlock crossover
1. Chapter 1

**Prologue**

The young woman walked through the cemetery, going up to one of the newest stones there. The earth was still freshly dug from the funeral, just a short time ago. She placed a bouquet of red roses and white stargazer lilies in front of the stone. As a chilly wind blew through the trees, she swept her long brown hair back over her ear, away from her face.

"... You were great at this, you know," the young woman said to the stone. "... So great... He still believes in you... He completely believes."

She fixed her brown eyes upon the shining black marble, and its gleaming silver letters, stating the name of the departed.

Sherlock Holmes.

As she stood there, a voice broke the quiet sound of the leaves rustling in the wind.

"I assume you were waiting to restore his true self when I had taken myself out of the equation?"

That smooth voice came from behind her. She whipped around to look in to the face of the 'dead man'. Sherlock Holmes, supposed fraud and criminal, stood there in his signature dark coat, collar up, hands clasped behind his back, looking entirely normal. As if just months ago he hadn't taken a leap off of the roof of Saint Bartholomew's Hospital. As the wind rustled the thick black curls on his head, he tilted it slightly, making the fringe just manage to stay swept over his forehead.

She went completely stiff as she locked her eyes with his pale, blue-grey ones. She was not surprised at all to be looking at, or talking to a dead man. In fact, she went on guard, as if she were about to fight him, though she carried no visible weapon. But she said nothing.

"Well?" he inquired voice deeper yet. His head inclined slightly to the left, though as he moved it seemed a bit stiff. Not quite an easy, fluid motion. His eyes moved over her, taking her in.

"You can drop the act, if you like," the girl finally said. "I know you're not human."

He chuckled. "You may know what I am not, but I highly doubt that you know precisely what I _am_."

"Yeah, and that's not the only thing you're not," the woman added. "You're not Sherlock Holmes. He's fiction." She reached in the red bag slung over her shoulder, the main pouch resting on her hip, and she withdrew from it an old leather-bound book. "Very good fiction, but fiction, all the same. It got you noticed right away."

He continued to stare at the young woman, his head not moving from its angle, though it should likely be getting a touch achy by now.

"I do not believe the conversation was about me," he replied.

"No," the young woman said. "It isn't." She tucked the book back in to her bag. "But you're the reason why he's here. And the reason he's going to need to remember." His eyes narrowed in on the chain around her neck. He knew what hung beneath her zipped-up jacket.

"You weren't ever real," she added, "And he always knew that, even before he changed… Before he went to sleep."

She took one step forward in her ankle-high boots. Her lips turned up at the corners in a sly smile, but the furrowing of her eyebrows and the rigidness of her shoulders still said she was on the defensive.

"You know _what_ he is," she said. "But do you know _'who'_?"


	2. Wholocked

**Chapter One:**

**Wholocked**

* * *

He slid his hands forward, moving them from behind his back to tuck into the pockets of his heavy, long coat.

"To my knowledge, Clara Oswald" the once 'Great Detective' answered, "There is but one Time Lord still rattling about the Universe."

"Then you know that I have to wake him up now," Clara replied. She jutted her hip out as she shifted her weight on her feet, but she never took her eyes off of the man, nor did she lose the air of being 'on guard'.

His expression did not change, either, but his voice rose slightly in pitch and increased in speed, "Because John Watson would destroy himself over the lack of Sherlock Holmes, but The Doctor would know what I had done, and why, yes?"

"He would. So you knew it was him the whole time, then? Didn't fool you one bit? Why let it carry on then?" she asked Holmes.

"And ruin all of his careful planning?" Sherlock asked her. "I knew what he was the moment he stepped in to the Lab. And I knew what you were hiding the moment you passed me on the street."

Clara did not mean to touch the round-shaped item through her jacket, but her hand rose to her chest, anyway.

"You noticed me too?" she asked, sounding genuinely disappointed. 'Well that's rubbish. I thought I was blending in well."

He gave her a long look as his head finally righted itself.

"The person you are supposed to be representing is in fact at Uni, right now," he said, "And slightly younger. Though your names are similar enough that you would respond to it."

Clara's round face scrunched slightly.

"That's _actually_ me. Younger me, precisely. But I'm far enough away from my own time-line that I won't be in danger of changing anything or causing some head-exploding paradox."

"Is that what he told you?" Sherlock asked. She ignored him, going on.

"And besides, my number in his phone is supposed to be the number for his 'sister's' ex, remember? I called him at Christmas to check up on him and well…" she noted that his expression verged upon boredom. "Yeah, you know that story. So I can't muck about my own time-line if I'm keeping an eye on him."

"Regardless," his voice cut through, finally, "You are the Doctor's current companion. Out of place, keeping an eye on him during this time that he is masquerading as John Watson, and therefore the bearer of what makes him what he is." He sounded, rightly, too, as if he were getting impatient.

But she was still enjoying their exchange. She was, really, terribly clever for a human.

"But I know something you don't. Or maybe you do and you're just pretending not to. You _are_ very good at pretending to be things, after all."

The defensiveness suddenly melted from her shoulders and her entire face as she took the few paces that separated her from the 'dead' Detective. Face upturned, she looked quite pleased with her knowledge.

"You like him," she said. "You like running with the Doctor."

"Yes," he confirmed. "And that personality will be lost beneath his true nature." However, his own voice regained the amusement of a few moments before, and his eyes, for the briefest moment, flickered. From blue-grey to blue-green. "But that regeneration is new to him, is it not? So… what is it to say that I would not _entirely_ lose the man I have come to know?"

The smirk on her face dropped as the implications of those words fell on her. She was filled with an overwhelming fear.

"You did something to him," she said softly. Then, just as quickly as fear had swept through her, anger came rising to the surface. "What did you do?"

"Nothing that will damage him, now or in the long run, I assure you," Sherlock said. "Merely created insurance against being left behind." His voice was cool and flat, but the words themselves spoke of a deep sense of insecurity.

"He's not like that," she said, defensiveness returning to her. "You didn't know him the way I did."

Clara stepped away from the tall Detective, and he neither said a word nor moved to stop her. He watched her, eyes narrowing again.

She went around him and started to walk away, leaving the graveyard. But behind him, she paused to say, "I'm going to see him today. We'll see what happens. Maybe you'll get lucky."

He turned to look at her when she said that.

"Maybe," she continued, "He'll take you with us. It'd be a shame if he didn't. For all that you've made me angry; you two are good for each other. And he does like clever people, even when they're not human." She resumed walking, with the inkling that Sherlock Holmes would be following her.

He did, but each time she felt his deep-reaching, ever observant eyes on her, and she turned to look, he was nowhere to be seen.

* * *

Clara arrived at Baker Street around three in the afternoon. She looked at the brass numbers, and their infamous letter, and took a deep breath before she lifted her hand up and knocked on the black wooden door. As it opened, a small, grandmotherly-sort of woman appeared. Her wrinkled hand gripped the side of the door, and she looked at the young woman.

"Sorry," the old woman said, "No more reporters or internet people, please," she whispered softly.

"Oh, no, Mrs. Hudson," Clara said gently, "I'm Clara. John's sister-in-law? We spoke on the phone?"

Mrs. Hudson's face lit up, and she smiled. "Oh, yes! Oh, I'm so sorry, dear, welcome. Come on in." She stepped aside, but reached for Clara's hand to let the young woman inside. As Clara entered the street-level sections of the building, she took a look around. Saw Mrs. Hudson's place down the hall, and the door to the basement. But she was directed upstairs by the old woman.

"It's not quite the same as it was. It feels a little darker, these days," Mrs. Hudson said, moving to shut the door. She did not notice the unseen guest that followed Clara inside, like a shadow.

"Poor dear," Mrs. Hudson continued on, as she and Clara ascended the stairs. "He's still rather heart broken, I'm afraid. I offered to let him stay. Even with a reduced rent! But he's so insistent…"

"I know," Clara said solemnly. "He's always been stubborn. Goes through times when he says he wants to be alone." She blinked, feeling a few tears behind her eyes. "Course that's the worst time to leave him alone, actually."

"Oh, I understand, dear," Mrs. Hudson replied before she knocked on the door of the flat-proper. "John?" she called. "John, you've a visitor dear."

They were met with silence.

Clara went up on her toes behind Mrs. Hudson, and called out. "John, it's me! It's Clara."

After a moment, the door finally opened. The blond-haired man who greeted them had obviously been lacking sleep. His eyes, lined already with wrinkles, were dark from insomnia. Slowly his mouth turned up in to the ghost of the cheerful smile that many of his acquaintances knew he was capable of giving.

"Hey, Clara," he said quietly. "Well, this is… This is a surprise."

"Did you think I was going to leave you alone at a time like this?" Clara asked him as Mrs. Hudson stepped in. Clara followed, and she immediately wrapped her arms around John Watson. She blinked back tears of empathy and pain at seeing him so empty.

The unseen fourth party did not enter, yet. His eyes narrowed instead, and he remained on the landing.

"I'll bring you two some tea and sandwiches," Mrs. Hudson said, turning to go back down stairs."

John let go of Clara, and he looked at his land-lady. "Oh, no, don't… Don't trouble yourself, really."

"You've already packed up the kitchen things," Mrs. Hudson said, pointing to the kitchen's side-entryway. "I did help, after all. I'll be back shortly. Just have yourselves a visit. Take a little time." She then started her descent. As Mrs. Hudson went past, the fourth figure swept inside, missing the door as it swung shut behind him.

As John went to the sofa, Clara looked around the little flat. All that was left of the furniture aside from the sofa was Sherlock's chair. Everything else was already packed away, or sent off.

"How are you holding up?" Clara asked John as they sat down together. "I know it hurts…"

John did not answer directly. Instead he said, "I'm… I've found a new place. Very affordable. And now I can take on more work at the clinic. So… work. Place to stay…"

"John," Clara said, the chastisement gentle. "You know what I mean."

He looked away from the young woman. "I keep…thinking that one day, I'll wake up and… This whole thing will just be a terrible nightmare. Or that I'll walk in here and see him sprawled out on the sofa, bored and moaning that he can't solve any crimes because he's supposed to be dead." He shut his eyes, but Clara had seen them glaze with tears he did not want to shed. "And then everything will be okay."

Clara watched him as he rubbed at his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Her chest hurt, as her heart went out to him.

"I keep praying for a miracle," John whispered.

Their unseen audience held his tongue, though he did not want to.

Clara finally put her arm around John's shoulders, and pulled him over for another hug. She could not stand how close this man was to tears, when she knew he had shed so many already.

"John," she said, "I know that you're going through so much… Listen, let's…" Clara pulled back, and looked in to his dark blue eyes. "Let's go on a holiday, yeah? Just go off somewhere? Take our minds off everything?"

He looked at her, and then shook his head. He stood up, and moved away from her.

"Clara, no" he said to her, "… No, no that… This is very inappropriate, even with you split from Harry-"

"What? No!" Clara exclaimed, going right up to her feet. "I don't mean like _that_!" She could not believe he had jumped to that sort of conclusion.

He muttered, "Sorry, yeah… don't have to look so disgusted, though."

"John, I mean," Clara sighed. She took a moment to think, and then she unzipped her jacket. Around her neck hung a pocket-watch, small but still rather ancient looking. Its lid was engraved with intricate designs of spirals. Almost like an artful rendition of the gears that worked inside the time-piece itself. She took a step closer to John, the watch now resting in her palm, and held out to him.

"John, do you remember this?" she asked him.

John looked down at the watch, answering slowly, "Nnn-no. Should I?" He looked back up at the young woman again.

The unseen figure in the room was growing irritated. Where she was failing, he would have simply opened the watch and called it a day.

Clara tried another approach. More leading. "You gave this to me. You told me that when the time came, I had to give it back."

John's eyebrows furrowed together. "That doesn't make any sense. I never gave you something like that." He walked through the kitchen, but paused as there was nothing in the cupboards of fridge to prepare. "Where is Mrs. Hudson with the tea?" he muttered, sounding nervous and anxious.

Perhaps even a little afraid.

Clara frowned, and finally a word passed her lips in a stern tone.

"**_Doctor_**."

John froze. His hands pressed against the kitchen counter, then curled in to fists, grabbing at the edge. As he slowly turned back to face her, Clara went to him, and took his hand. She led him back in to the living room, though his feet moved slowly.

"Doctor," she said again, softer this time. "You know what this is. Even though you don't know, you know what it is. And you know what you have to do."

"Clara," John whispered, "You're frightening me." He sounded genuinely disturbed. However, he did not run or take his hand away.

Their unseen audience tensed as the events came to their edge.

Quietly, Clara asked John, "Do you want him back?" It was a half-whisper, and rushed. But he heard.

He asked, "What?"

"Do you want him back?" Clara asked John again. "You said you wanted a miracle. This watch- this _specific_ watch- will give that to you. But you'll have to give up something."

His ever expressive face made a look that said he could not believe what was being said, but he laughed nervously. "Clara, this is just… It's absolutely insane."

She did not answer him or argue. Instead, she placed the watch in his hand. As his skin touched the metal, he heard words. Thoughts floating in to his mind as brief images flashed through his brain. Images he had never seen before. Memories that he had never lived.

_"Clara…" A woman with brown curls and a red Victorian gown. Running through the snowy streets of a London long passed away._

_"Oswin…" Broken, rusted corridors… A voice that guided him. Clever and funny, and very special indeed, capable of hacking the most advanced computer system in the entire universe._

_"Oswald…" The familiar face, wearing a blue and white polkadot dress, standing at his side as they watch a burning planet, infected with a parasite, begin to die. Their blood was racing with the thrill of victory._

_"Impossible…"_

John gasped and he nearly dropped the watch, but Clara clenched her hands around his. She made his fingers curl around the watch in his palm as he jerked back.

"What is this?" he demanded of the girl. "Some joke? Because it's not funny!"

"It's not," she pleaded. She was so distressed, knowing this was causing him so much confusion and fear. "I swear, Doctor, it's not!"

The voice returned to his head.

_"Doctor… _The_ Doctor… The Genuine Article…"_

"If you open it," Clara said, "You'll understand. And you'll know. And you'll be able to see him again. I promised." She looked him in the eye, and her lower lip quivered. "Doctor, please, trust me."

The voice was stronger than ever as John returned her gaze.

_"Companion… Friend… Doctor… The Last… Open me… It is Time…. Open me…"_

Their audience clenched his jaw as he saw John's head dip and look at the hands that clenched around the watch.

"…Would it really bring him back?" John asked, his voice wavering.

"Yes," she replied. All the while, the whispers continued in a chant.

_"Doctor… Doctor… Open me… Open me…"_

He looked from the watch up to Clara again. Then his thumb went up to the small switch up at the top. With hands steady and unwavering, he pushed the switch down. The lid flipped open.

The face of the clock inside was awash with golden light. The light flowed upward, looking like pure flecks of gold caught in an unknown wind. Then they began to swirl over John's skin, up to his face.

As the golden-flecked light-

_Huon particles, _his brain said.

-Began to enter him through his eyes, nose, mouth, and any other way it could.

Finally it filled his mind.

He started to scream. Pain went through his head and his body simultaneously. It was the worst pain imaginable. Possibly even worse than that! As he sank down to his knees, Clara covered her mouth. She started to cry, unable to stop herself.

"I'm sorry," she said, "I'm so sorry, John, I really am!"

John's body felt as if it were on fire. His chest ached, and he wondered if he was about to go in to cardiac arrest. Until he felt something that had long been silent begin to throb and start working.

_"Two hearts."_

A second heart, and other dormant organs, began their functions again inside of his body. As the hearts began their drumbeat inside of him, he felt the bloody rushing through his veins and he grabbed at his head, which was still burning and hurting.

"MY HEAD!" he screamed. "OH GOD, MY HEAD!"

Their observer stood back, just watching. He cataloged every detail of the sight in front of him. Watched as the human doctor began to change. He had seen a Chameleon Arch's effects come to their end before. He was certain that what he had done to the Time Lord while he had been dormant would not cause him any pain or undue side-effects. In fact, if it had been done right (and he was sure it had) there would not even be a noticeable difference right off.

From below, the sounds of feet came running up the stairwell. Then a frantic knock.

"John!" cried out Mrs. Hudson from behind the door. Clara's head swung to look at the door, and then the girl's hand went in to her bag. She pulled out a long device with a claw at its end, and green glass at the tip of the copper and steel item's tip.

"Sorry, Mrs. Hudson!" she cried out as the girl aimed the device at the door, and pressed a button on it. A whirring, loud sonic sound wave was emitted and the light glowed. The door locked itself from the inside.

Outside, Mrs. Hudson attempted to open it with her keys, but nothing happened.

"John! What's going on?" demanded the old woman. But Clara put the sonic device in her bag again, then she knelt by John's side.

"Doctor," Clara gasped, "Doctor, please, come back! Hold on! Just come back!"

For John, images flashed in his mind in an endless torrent, along with words that at first sounded only like gibberish. But as the Huon particles filled every neuron in his brain, those words and images began to make more sense. He saw creatures, living and artificial, that were horrifying and yet amazing at the same time. These creatures he had both fought and allied with in the past, and they all soon became clear to him in his mind.

_Zygons- Humanoid-squidlike creatures_

_Ice Warriors- Martians- Reptiles that covered themselves in protective armor._

_The Jagrafess- A slug-monster with snarling teeth, sharp as knives._

_The Ood- Beings with tentacles that fell from their mouths, smooth round heads, and could either be docile and subservient, able to sing a beautiful psychic song, or that could be vicious and deadly._

_Cybermen- Humans that had been encased in metal, stripped of emotion or feeling, with the need only to 'upgrade' the rest of the race._

_Daleks- Creatures made of pure hatred and anger, screaming "EX-TER-MIN-ATE!"_

Followed by those creatures, and many others, were the faces. First faces that he knew as his own, but… also not his. Twelve different faces of different men, yet all of them he knew deep inside of his bones were himself. Old, young, and in-between, wearing everything from the best of Victorian fashion, to pin-striped suits, leather jackets to cricket uniforms, even a ghastly multi-colored coat, a 20 foot long scarf, and other things. Then the faces of people. Humans, aliens, androids, and in-between, all people whom he had known. Some brought joy; others brought sadness, guilt, and regret. But all filled him with love… Love…

_Susan. Barabra . Ian. Vicki. Steven. Katarina. Dodo. Ben. Polly. Jamie. Victoria. Zoe. The Brigadier. Liz. Benton. Jo. Mike. Sarah Jane. Leela. K9. Romana. Adric. Tegan. Nyssa. Turlough. Kamelion. Peri. Mel. Ace. Grace. Chang. Rose. Jack. Martha. Donna. Wilfred. Amy. Rory. River. Clara…_

_Clara…_

_Colleagues. Friends. Companions all of them! My companions…_

He saw worlds. Worlds far away in the deepest parts of the galaxies, beautiful foreign skies. He saw the continents of the Earth in its various stages of time. He saw himself with these men and women and other things, in these worlds, and he felt from them joy… And pain. And hate. And rage and loneliness. Oh the soul-breaking loneliness… He saw an orange-skied world burning and crumbling… But then he was back to the Earth again, and once more, enveloped by wonder and love. Always it began and ended with love, among whatever else there had been along the way. He had traveled to all of these places, with these people. He had run… Always running, he had always been running! Running away, running toward, and running together…

Always traveling together…inside of a blue box…that was bigger on the inside…

_Time And Relative Dimensions In Space…_

_The TARDIS…_My _TARDIS…_

And then there came the knowledge…

Slowly, he rose to his feet. The little man with the blonde hair, he looked up and he spoke, eyes shining golden.

"I see… Everything…. Time. The past, the present, the future… I feel it deep inside of me…In my blood…My DNA…" He turned his eyes to Clara as she looked up at him. He gasped, and his skin took on a golden sheen before particles escaped him in a puff of breath.

"I feel the turn of the earth," he went on. "The _universe itself_… Everything that is and was and will be, everywhere, every_when_, on every planet, moon, star… Times that are fixed… Times that flux…" His lips turned upward and he barked out a laugh. "I see Eternity!" His laughter grew, taking an edge of terrified surprise.

"Doctor?" Clara asked. Her voice was touched by awe, but she was afraid of losing this. Whatever this was, she was afraid it would suddenly vanish and also afraid of it staying, because this was not how she remembered this person.

He looked in to her eyes, and finally, stopped laughing to just smile.

"Clara Oswald," he finally said.

She nodded. "Yes."

He shook his head lightly. "You're impossible… You died, again and again, and found me again- and I found you… You blew in to my world on a leaf…"

She stood up, now, as well, her own lips up in a wide smile.

He grabbed her shoulders. "You ran away with me." His voice and face were half giddy.

"Yes," she repeated, beginning to giggle lightly as tears, a different sort, now, returned to her eyes.

"You ran away with me, and we ran together," he said again, his voice taking a soft growl to it as if he were getting worked up. She nodded enthusiastically.

"Yes, my clever boy!" she cried.

"You were amazing!" he exclaimed as he let go of her shoulders. His skin and eyes settled back in to their proper shades as he spoke. "Well done, Clara! Well done!"

He tossed his head back, and then shouted, "I. AM. THE DOCTOR!"

Clara squealed with delight and threw herself at him, arms going around his neck. He caught her easily, with new familiarity, and spun her around in the middle of the room, both laughing from deep within their bellies.

As the Time Lord acknowledged himself, declaring his name once more, the observer's eyes closed, and he felt… a sense of loss. For the briefest moment. But when his eyes opened again to continue watching the celebrating duo, he did not look away. Instead, he stood by, silently. Waiting.

The Doctor finally let Clara down, and he stepped back. He let out a sigh.

"Welcome back," Clara said to him fondly.

"It's good to be back," The Doctor said to Clara. The Doctor sighed, and then he looked down at the bag at Clara's hip. He reached inside of it, and pulled out the Sonic Screwdriver- his second most cherished item, apart from the TARDIS, of course- and he gave it a little toss in the air. He easily caught it again in his hand.

"I remember everything, now," The Doctor said, "And that of course includes why I did this in the first place." He turned around, and pointed the Sonic in to, to Clara's eyes, blank space. He pressed a button, and as the Sonic flared, the air around the hallway's entrance shimmered, and revealed their watcher.

Sherlock Holmes, naturally.

And yet not. The earlier release of Huon energy had caused the room around them to stir, and now his fringe had moved, leaving the open scar on his forehead exposed. With his forehead's injury visible, both The Doctor and Clara saw that, under the pale skin, there was not bone, sinew, or blood. Instead, they saw a pale metallic substance that had a crystalline finish to it gleaming in the light let in by the curtainless windows.

Clara's eyes went wide as she said, "What…?"

"Clara Oswald, meet Sherlock Holmes," The Doctor said. "An Ymitargenus. Latinized translation of their name, of course… The real one's difficult to pronounce with a human larynx. Most other planets," he explained, "Call them 'Pretenders'. On Gallifrey we called them Race Mimics. Unlike Zygons, which need to replicate someone they've taken, and are organic, Mimics are a mixture of biological matter and robotics."

"Like an Android?" Clara asked.

"Yes, but no, not at all," The Doctor answered. His blue eyes, dark as the oceans, did not turn from the being across from them. "They are unique beings that many have tried to replicate, with failure. The Gelsandorans came close, once... but even he couldn't compare to a real Mimic."

The alien being with the metallic skull did not speak. Sherlock instead just continued his cold stare. Had it fixed squarely upon The Doctor.

The Time Lord took a breath, then asked, "Was it fun? Being the Great Detective, Sherlock Holmes?" He looked right back in to the pale blue eyes he had become so acquainted with over the past year. His own expression was akin to that of a tiger, sizing up a threat. "You know, it was interesting… And fun, for me, at least… Being Doctor John Watson, and all…" He canted his head. "I knew the woman that Doyle based that character off of, you know. Lovely Silurian. Very lovely wife, she had, too." He cleared his throat. "Well… The Game's over now, isn't it?"

"It wasn't a Game," Sherlock replied. His voice was soft, and very low. He stepped forward, eyes still drilling in to The Doctor, though they did flicker again, at the cough. "Moriarty had a sniper on you, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. He shot himself before he could call them off. I had no choice, especially since you were still 'human' and vulnerable… It wasn't an entirely pleasant experience for me, either." His voice held no inflection at all as he recounted these things.

"Oh no," The Doctor said, "Jumping off of a building wouldn't be pleasant, even for a Mimic. That's not quite right."

He raised his Sonic again, scanning the creature in front of him, as Clara asked, "Not right?"

"No," The Doctor said. He looked at his device and checked on the readings. "Mimics usually assimilate themselves fully in to the race of the planet that they land on. Then they become entirely, in mind and action, like the race they imitate. Their bodies even adapt, sometimes. But he…" he gestured to Sherlock, "Didn't quite fit in… He can get the look down to a point, but… deep down, he can't replicate the bones, or the muscle tissue… It's something I've never seen before."

"What's that all mean?" Clara asked him.

"It means that he can withstand things humans can't. And that he sticks out like a sore thumb," The Doctor told her.

"Is that bad?" Clara asked.

"It breaks the masquerade," The Doctor replied. "In a manner of speaking. It makes people aware of them… Bit not good."

Sherlock's jaw clenched. The Doctor noted it was the same sort of clenching it did whenever Sally Donovan called him a 'freak'. The tall being's shoulders stiffened, and he stood up a bit straighter. Took a step away from Clara and The Doctor. He lifted his long-fingered hand up to brush his fringe fully away from his wound.

"I am competent enough. This will seal itself, in time. Time that I have while I hunt down Moriarty's men and destroy his web," Sherlock told them, his voice as cold as ice.

"Why?" The Doctor asked. He licked his lips and said, "I'm technically not in danger anymore. I could… Oh…" he shrugged, "Jump in to the TARDIS with Clara, and disappear. Never come back. John Watson will just be one of those missing people, until UNIT catches on and has the proper documents and reports done up to wipe him from the Earth's records…" He waggled a finger, then, at the Mimic. "And don't think I don't remember that bit of tampering you did."

Sherlock remained quiet as The Doctor cleared his throat and imitated Sherlock's deep baritone, even gaining an air of superiority as he spoke. "'John, come here. I need assistance with an experiment'." His voice then took on the tone of 'John's' as he repeated, "'What is it? Will it hurt?'"

"What are you going to do about it, then, _Doctor?_" Sherlock asked, an edge coming to his voice, sharp and biting.

"Well… UNIT asked for my help for a reason. There's just one thing left to do," The Doctor said as his grip tightened around the handle of the Sonic.

Clara's eyes flicked from the Time Lord to the Mimic.

"I can't let you stay on Earth, mate…"


End file.
